Flares of Freedom
by charmedlion22
Summary: Jaenarys and Daenerys have landed with what's left of their khalasar in Astapor, having escaped the warlocks of Qarth. Find out what happens next in the third installment of Fireborn.
1. Chapter 1

**Aaah! Welcome back to the story! I'm so sorry with how late this is, life happened. But I promise, I will focus on this more than I have.**

**Phew. Okay. This is the third installment of my ****_Game of Thrones_**** series. And as hinted in the previous story, this will eventually be a Robb Stark/OC - this will happen by either the fourth or fifth installment, depending on how many chapters are in this one and storyline and everything. But I will have a chapter in this from Robb's point of view from the Red Wedding episode, explaining the change.**

**Alright, enjoy the first chapter! And thanks for being so patient! As always, bold is for Dothraki conversations, italicized is for Valyrian.**

* * *

It's been nearly a fortnight since we left Qarth and boarded the merchant ship, large enough to hold ourselves and our small khalasar. I find myself constantly missing Irri and her Dothraki wisdom. I even miss Doreah, and wish things had been different. But try as I might I have no control over the choices others make. Like Dany, I can only deliver the consequences and stare ahead.

And that is what I'm doing. I stand with my back to the helm of the ship, my twin holding my hand in calm excitement as we watch the four dragons screech and fly. Daavi is the largest, nearly twice the size of her cousins. Still, for a dragon she is quite gentle. Wild, of course, as they are not meant to be tame creatures. But when I look into her eyes, I see my late friend, and can't help but wonder if her soul lives inside my dragon.

I walk away from Dany and Ser Jorah and watch as Daavi and Drogon fly down into the water before reemerging with a fish in their mouths. The poor creature is tossed up, roasted by their growing fire before falling down into the mouths of the beasts. "Daavi." I croon, standing at the back of the ship, facing the direction from whence we came.

Daavi flies to me, her bronze wings folding down as her feet clench the bannister of the ship. I gently reach out my hand and her back head instantly nuzzles into it, chirping and purring. "You are such a good dragon. Yes you are, my darling." I say in High Valyrian, Daavi continuing to croon in pleasure.

My sister laughs. "You two are as thick as thieves."

"As are you and Drogon." I comment, her own dragon landing by her and purring. She smiles and leans out her hand to scratch under her Drogon's jaw.

"They are growing fast." I hear Jorah say, and turn to smile at them.

Dany speaks first. "Daavi is, certainly. But the others have not grown enough. We can't wait that long." Drogon flies off to join his brothers, but Daavi stays with me. "We need an army."

Daavi suddenly flies onto me, clawed feed around the black belt of my red dress with slits, legs bared as a breeze rolls past. I stumble a bit as her wings wrap around my torso, her head on my shoulder. My sister laughs at me, and I poke my tongue out at her. _"You are getting too big to be carried, Daavi."_ I tell my dragon, who only hums and continues to rest.

"We'll be in Astapor by nightfall." Jorah tells us. "Some say the Unsullied are the greatest soldiers in the world."

"The greatest slave-soldiers in the world!" My sister argues, referring to the eunuch men awaiting us on Slaver's Bay, along with their masters. "The distinction means a good deal to some people."

"Dany, please." I tell her, calming my twin down.

"Do those people have any better ideas about how to put you on the Iron Throne?" Jorah argues. I steadily walk between the two, looking less intimidating with the dragon wrapped around me.

"It's too nice a day to argue." I try, only to hear the sound of someone throwing up. I close my eyes at the timing. We walk towards our original spots at the back of the ship, looking down at our seasick khalasar.

"You're right. Another lovely day on the high seas." Jorah tells me, and I glower playfully at him.

"Don't mock them." Dany tells him. "They're the first Dothraki who have ever been on a ship." We watch as one of our khalasar tends to the sick man. "They followed us across the poison water. If they'll do it, others will. And with a true khalasar -"

"The Dothraki will follow strength above all, Khaleesi." Jorah tells her. My dragon makes a noise before releasing me, joining her cousins in the sky. "You'll have a true khalasar when you prove yourself strong, and not before."

I sigh and walk away from them to watch Daavi fly, wishing she could be larger only so I could be with her in the sky.

* * *

True to Jorah's word, we arrive at the shores of Astapor just as night is falling. Our dragons stay in our chambers, somehow knowing it is not safe for them to remain in the sky. I take Dany's hand as our ship reaches the docks of the city very much appearing like Qarth, great and wealthy. Jorah leads us off the ship, and we are met by a master and his female slave. _"Welcome to Astapor. This is my translator, Missandei. Shall we begin?"_ He looks to his slave.

"Master Kraznys welcomes you to Astapor, and asks if you are ready to meet his Unsullied."

"Yes, we are." I answer, looking at the bald man distrustfully. He smiles in the way all mean do when they think little of women, and leads us towards the gates of a small gathering place. He speaks in Valyrian, unaware that we have no need for a translator. After all, it is our mother tongue.

"The Unsullied have stood here for a day and a night." Missandei informs us from behind. "With no food or water." Obviously Kraznys is hoping to impress us. Clearly no one informed this ignorant low-life that us Targaryen twins are against slavery. Krazynys leads us to the rows of soldiers, speaking in Valyrian. Missandei translates. "They will stand until they drop. Such is their obedience." The men before us part in uniform, and we walk through them like a parted sea.

"They may suit our needs." My sister says in the common tongue. "Tell me of their training."

_"The Westerosi women are pleased with them, but speak no praise to keep the price down."_ I smile at her words. _"They wish to know how they are trained."_

We reach the front of the group and walk up the platform.

_"Tell them what they should know and be quick about it."_ Kraznys orders. _"The day is hot."_ He complains, and I snort behind my hand. We stand together on the raised platform, looking down at the small gathering bellow.

"They begin their training at five. Everyday they drill from dawn to dusk, until they have mastered the shortsword, the shield, and three spears. Only one boy in four survives this rigorous training." Missandei tells us. Kraznys speaks once more, Missandei continuing to translate. "Their discipline and loyalty are absolute. They fear nothing."

"Even the bravest of men fear death." Ser Jorah argues. Missandei turns to her master.

_"The knight says even brave men fear death."_

_"Tell the old man he smells of piss."_ I glower, Dany taking my hand to stop me from revealing our secret. Right now, it's our greatest weapon. That and our dragons.

_"Truly, master?"_

_"No, not truly!"_ He scolds Missandei._ "Are you a girl or a goat to ask such a thing?"_

"My master says the Unsullied are not men. Death means nothing to them."

"Tell these ignorant whores of Westerners to open their eyes and watch." Dany looks to me, and I roll my eyes.

Kraznys walks down the steps to his men. "He begs you attend this carefully, Your Graces."

_"You, come forward."_ Kraznys orders. The Unsullied walks down to him and stops. Kraznys moves his shielded arm out of the way, as well as his spear. He takes the knife at the man's hilt, then slices one of the straps from his leather armor so it falls back.

"Dany." I whisper, and she nods.

"Tell the good master there is no need." She says to Missandei.

_"She's worried about their nipples?"_ The man says amused. _"Do the dumb bitches know we've cut off their balls?"_ He guts off the Unsullied's left nipple, throwing it to the ground as the wound bleeds the man doesn't flinch. My sister looks away but stare at Kraznys in disgust. I wouldn't mind slicing Blackfyre through him.

"My master points out that men don't need nipples." Missandei tells us, looking down.

Kraznys puts the Unsullied back in his previous position._ "Here, I'm done with you."_

_"This one is pleased to have served you."_ The Unsullied steps back into line. Kraznys walks towards us, looking up at his small audience. He says something, but all I hear is the roaring in my ears. My hand grips the hilt of my new sword.

"To win his shield, an Unsullied must go to the slave marts with a silver mark, find a newborn and kill it before its mother's eyes." Missandei tells us. I feel a pang in my heart and close my eyes. "This way, my master says, we make certain there is no weakness left in them."

"You take a babe from its mother's arms, kill it as she watches, and pay for her pain with a silver coin?" I ask, anger pulsating in my voice.

Missandei translates my words for her master, simply saying, _"She is offended. She asks if you pay a silver coin to the mother, for her dead body."_

_"What a soft mewling fool this one is. No woman deserves to wield a sword, for they are weak."_ He comments, looking at me. I pretend to not understand him, tilting my head.

"My master would like you to know that silver is paid to the baby's owner, not the mother."

"How many do you have to sell?" Dany asks the master. Missandei translates her words for the master, who holds up at 8 fingers.

"8,000."

_"Tell the Westerosi whores they have until tomorrow."_

"Master Kraznys asks that you please hurry. Many other buyers are interested." The Unsullied part and Kraznys walks through them, Missandei scurrying behind him. The Unsullied return to where they were standing, staring ahead. My sister looks at me and nods, and we walk around them, heading back to the docks.

"8,000 dead babies." My sister comments.

"The Unsullied are a means to an end." Jorah reminds her.

"Once we own them. These men -" I start.

"They're not men. Not anymore." I glare up at our advisor, and my sister speaks for me.

"Once we own an army of slaves, what will we be?" She asks.

"Do you think these slaves will have better lives Kraznys and men like him or serving the two of you?" Jorah asks as we watch the slaves work below us. A little girl stares up at us, tossing a brown ball in her hand. She runs off and amused, we follow after her to our own ship. "You'll be fair to them. You won't mutilate them to make a point. You won't order them to murder babies. You'll see they're properly fed and sheltered." Something in my gut roars, telling me we're being followed. But I look ahead. I could just be paranoid. I have Jorah here, I have Blackfyre, I am safe. "A great injustice has been done to them. Closing your eyes will not undo it." Jorah finishes, and we stop before the girl, just ahead of us. She leans down and rolls it to Dany, who picks it up in interest. The girl makes a motion, but before Dany can do anything a hooded figure knocks me over, then grabs at Dany, knocking the ball out of her hands and she falls on the ground next to me. Jorah subdues the man but the ball opens, revealing the chittering manticore. Taking Dany's hand and shaking my head we slowly scoot back on the floor, right as a silver dagger comes down and impales it to the dock. He lifts it and I see he's an old man.

The girl reemerges and hisses at us with green sharpened teeth before jumping off the dock and into the water, gone. I help Dany stand and we slowly turn, looking up to see the girl above us. She just glares and walks away. "The warlocks." My sister says. I bite my lip in fear and take her hand as we walk towards the hooded man. "We owe you our lives, ser."

"The honor is mine, my Queen. My Princess." He declares, pushing his hood down to reveal his face.

We notice Jorah walking towards us in surprise. "You know him?" I ask.

He nods. "I know him as one of the greatest fighters the Seven Kingdoms has ever seen. And as the Lord Commander of Robert Baratheon's Kingsguard."

"King Robert is dead." The man reminds us. I have been searching for you, Daenerys Stormborn and Jaenarys Fireborn, to ask your forgiveness. I was sworn to protect your family. I failed them." He kneels before us. "I am Barristan Selmy, Kingsguard to your father. Allow me to join your Queensguard, and I will not fail you again." He bows his head at us.

The other two remain in silence, but I smile and remove my sword from its sheath, reknighting the man. "Then I name you Ser Barristan Selmy of Daenerys Targaryen's Queensguard, protector of the rightful heir to the Iron Throne. You may rise." He stands and smiles down at me. "Welcome to our little khalasar, Ser Selmy."

"Thank you, my Princess." With a bow he walks with Jorah, following us to the ship. I am not trusting of strangers, but the look in his eyes suggests he means no harm. Not to us, at least. Which makes him a member of a very small collection of people wishing to aid us.

And we need all the protectors we can get. That little girl… she's the least of our worries.


	2. Chapter 2

**Aaah! Welcome back to the story! I'm so sorry with how late this is, but I finally got a job, unfortunately away from my precious computer. But have no fear! I'll get better at managing everything!**

**Phew. Okay. This is the third installment of my ****_Game of Thrones_**** series. And as hinted in the previous story, this will eventually be a Robb Stark/OC - this will happen by either the fourth or fifth installment, depending on how many chapters are in this one and storyline and everything. But I will have a chapter in this from Robb's point of view from the Red Wedding episode, explaining the change.**

**Alright, enjoy the first chapter! And thanks for being so patient! As always, bold is for Dothraki conversations, italicized is for Valyrian.**

* * *

A day has passed since we met Ser Barristan Selmy and we arrived in Astapor. But while the two men and my sister focus on getting us an army, I am distracted by thoughts of the mysterious man across the Narrow Sea - the one Aegor showed me. I don't even know his name, so how could he possibly come to mean everything to me.

"Princess?" I hear someone ask. I turn to see Jorah has stopped walking, watching me as I stared out at the sea, my sister and Ser Barristan walking away from us.

"Yes? I'm sorry."

"You have been distracted, recently. Ever since the House of the Undying." He comments, eyebrows raised.

"It is nothing, Jorah."

He gently places a hand on my shoulder, staring into my violet orbs. "You can tell me, Princess. Truly."

I smile up at him. "I know. And I will. But now is not the time for me. We must focus on helping Dany."

"You're just as important as she is, young Princess." He tries.

I shake my head. "No, I am not. And I am honestly fine with that. Whatever thoughts plague me, I must cast them aside. Dany deserves my full attention. I promised to fight for her, and I shall."

"Jaenarys, don't forget to fight for yourself as well." Jorah places a hand on my back and leads us towards Ser Barristan and my twin.

The four of us turn down another path, and find ahead of us something truly despicable.

Slaves stand chained to wooden structures, bodies covered with blood and their heads hanging. "The Walk of Punishment is a warning, your Graces." Ser Barristan tells us as we walk past the chained and beaten men.

"To whom?" My sister asks, taking my hand.

"To any slave who contemplates doing whatever these slaves did." Jorah tells us, and we stop in front of a badly injured man. Blood is smeared across his face, and it takes everything in my power not to unsheath Blackfyre and break the man's chains.

"Give me your water." My sister orders, holding out her hand.

"Khaleesi, this man has been sentenced to death." Jorah tries to tell her, but obeys Dany's command. She takes the pouch from him with a small glare and walks up to where the man has been mounted, tilting his head gently and putting the water to his lips. The slave refuses her offering.

"Leave this place, your Grace." Ser Barristan tries, passionately. "Leave tonight, I beg you."

"And what is she - _they_ -" Jorah nods down at me, "to do for soldiers?"

"We can find sellswords in Pentos and Myr."

"Is it 'we' already, Ser Barristan?" Jorah asks, and I roll my eyes at their dick measuring contest. _Men_. Such prideful fools. "If you want to sit on the throne your ancestors built, you must win it. That will mean blood on your hands before the thing is done." Jorah tells my twin as she walks back to us, giving our friend his water.

"The blood of my enemies. Not the blood of innocents." Dany takes my hand and leads us towards our destination, our two male companions quickly following.

"How many wars have you fought in, Ser Barristan?"

"Three." The ser answers Jorah's question.

"Have you ever seen a war where innocents didn't die by the thousands?" I look back and watch the old man shake his head, silent. "I was in King's Landing after the sack, Khaleesi. Princess. You know what I saw? _Butchery_. Babies, children, old men. More women raped than you can count. There's a beast in every man, and it stirs when you put a sword in his hand." Jorah looks down at me. "Or hers."

"My sister will be no such thing." Dany vehemently argues, taking my hand harder.

I shake my head. "No, he is right. A weapon is only as powerful as they who wields it. If I am going to get you that throne, I will be one of thousands cutting down men."

"Just not the innocent." My sister argues, passionately. I frown.

"War is bloody, Daenerys. Always has been, especially in our family." I look over at Jorah. "But what makes the Unsullied different?"

"The Unsullied are not men. They do not rape. They do not put cities to the sword unless they're ordered to do so. If you buy them, the only men they'll kill are those you want dead."

"Do you disagree, Ser Barristan?" My sister asks.

"When your brother led his army into battle at the Trident, men died for him because they believed in him, because they loved him, not because they'd been bought in a slaver's auction. I fought beside the last dragon on that day, your Graces. I bled beside him."

"Rhaegar fought valiantly, Rhaegar fought nobly, and Rhaegar died." Jorah counters, voice strong.

"Did you know him well, Ser Barristan? Our brother?" I ask the old man.

"I did, your Grace. Finest man I'd ever met."

"I wish I had known him." I mutter, looking at the water and beyond, longingly.

"But he was not the last dragon." My sister adds, and we continue walking to the building where the meeting would take place. I find myself wishing I had brought Daavi, for I do not like leaving her on her own when she's so young. Perhaps I truly am I mother, worrying for the safety of her daughter.

We enter meeting place, and stare up at the two slavers and Missandei the translator. My sister raises one eyebrow. "Let us get straight to business. My sister and I would like to purchase all of the Unsullied."

"All?" Missandei asks, surprise written all over her face. "Did this one's ears mishear you, your Grace?"

"They did not. We wish to buy them all."

_"They want to buy them all."_ Missandei tells her master.

_"They can't afford them. Those sluts think they can flash their tits, and make us give them whatever they want."_ Master Kraznys tells his friend. I look to my sister, and we both have an eyebrow raised.

"There are 8,000 Unsullied in Astapor. Is this what you mean by all?" Missandei asks.

"Yes, 8,000. And those still training as well." I tell her, crossing my arms under my breasts.

The other master looks frustrated as Missandei translates. _"If they fail on the battlefield, they will shame Astapor."_

"Master Greizhen says they cannot sell half-trained boys. If they fail on the battlefield, they will bring shame upon all of Astapor." Missandei tells us.

"We will have them all or take none." My sister argues strongly. "Many will fall in battle, we will need the boys to pick up the swords they drop.

Kraznys groans. "The sluts cannot pay for all of this."

"Master Kraznys says you cannot afford this."

_"Her ship will buy her 100 Unsullied, no more."_

"Your ship will buy you 100 Unsullied, no more."

_"And this is because I like the curve of their asses."_ Kraznys grins disgustingly.

"Because Master Kraznys is generous." Missandei tells us, ignoring the words of her master.

_"What is left will buy her 10."_

"The gold you have left is worth 10."

_"I will give them 20 if it stops their ignorant whimpering."_

"But good Master Kraznys will give you 20."

_"Their Dothraki smell of shit -"_

"The Dothraki you have with you -"

_"But may be useful as pig feed."_

Missandei shakes her head. "The Dothraki you have are not worth what they cost to feed. But Master Kraznys will give you 3 Unsullied for all of them. Master Kraznys asks how you propose to pay for the remaining 7,877 Unsullied?" Missandei questions as my twin and I look up at the watching slaves. Women and children, dirty and scared.

"We have dragons. We will give you one."

"Dany." I whisper, and she gives me a sharp look. I just sigh, then look over at Missandei and the masters. "We will give you two." Missandei immediately turns to her now interested master, while Jorah and Barristan come up to us.

"You will win the throne with dragons, not slaves your Graces."

"Khaleesi, Princess, please." We both look at the men harshly, and they back off. Dany takes my hand and we hold onto each other for strength as we walk towards where the masters sit.

"Four Dragons." Kraznys barters.

I snort. "Two."

"Three."

"Two." I snarl.

Kraznys speaks, and we narrow our eyes at him, as though we don't know what he's saying.

"They want the biggest ones."

"They shall have the biggest and the fastest." I tell Missandei. She nods. "Done."

"Done." Kraznys agrees, and we begin to walk away, but Dany stops us when she gets an idea.

"We'll take you as well, now." She says to Missandei, and I grin. "You'll be Master Kraznys's gift to us." We both look at the bald man. "A token of a bargain well struck."

"She asks that you give me to them, as a present. She asks that you do this now." Kraznys glares but nods, and Missandei walks ahead of us.

"Khaleesi, Princess, two dragons is worth more than any army." Jorah tells us.

"Aegon and his sisters proved that." Ser Barristan adds.

Missandei waits for us in the shadows under an archway. "You're both here to advise us." My sister states to the two men, turning in her spot with me and glaring up at our companions. "We value your advice. But if you ever question me - or us - in front of strangers again, you'll be advising someone else. Is that understood?" The two men nod and we walk ahead, urging Missandei to follow us. As we can't reveal what we truly know, my sister asks, "Do you have a name?"

"This one's name is Missandei, your Graces." The taller woman tells us, a little bashful.

"Do you have a family? Anyone you'd return to if you were given the choice?" I ask her.

"No, your Grace. No family living."

"You belong to us, now. It is your duty to tell us the truth." Dany orders.

"Yes, your Grace, lying is a great offense." Missandei agrees. "Many of those on the Walk of Punishment were taken there for less."

"I offered water to one of the slaves dying on the Walk of Punishment. Do you know what he said to me? 'Let me die.'"

"Why did you not tell me?" I ask her, and she sighs. Before she can answer, Missandei speaks.

"There are no masters in the grave, your Grace."

"Is it true what Master Kraznys told us about the Unsullied? About their obedience?" Dany asks as we pass by the slave army, all lined up against the walls.

"All questions have been taken from them. They obey, that is all. Once they are yours, they are yours. They will fall on their swords if you command it."

"And what about you?" I ask the other girl. Because that's what we are, girls in a world man thinks it owns. "We are taking you to war, after all. You could get hurt, fall sick, be hungry, you may die."

"Valar Morghulis." Is all Missandei says, and I smirk as my sister responds.

"Yes, all men must die. But we are not men."

"Come, Missandei. I have a dress that may fit."

"I am your slave, your Grace." She argues, confused.

I shake my head. "You were a gift, yes. But you are not my slave."

"I don't understand." I take her hand and smile.

"I don't expect you to, not yet. But you will. My sister and I… we're not much for being masters. Tell me, have you ever pet a horse? Seen a dragon?" I ask Missandei, who shakes her head. "You will. I think Caraxes and Daavi will like you."

* * *

I sit on my bed in the quarters of my ship, Daavi sitting on my lap as I pet her head gently. As I thought, Caraxes and my dragon took a liking to Missandei. I worry for my stallion. I can tell as the days go on he grows more tired. Hopefully when we get our Unsullied, he can stretch his legs once more. I was unable to ride him back in Qarth, distrusting of the men there. I guess I was just lucky Xaro and his men thought little of my gift.

_"Daavi, I must ask something of you." _She purrs and lifts her head. _"Have faith in me, my darling. What I have to do tomorrow will not be real. I would never give you to another, much less a man who acts as though he is a god. Do you understand?" _She chitters a bit. _"It will look as though I am leaving you, but I won't be. Just have faith."_

I stare out the window of my chambers and at the sea, thinking of a world beyond. So much confusion haunts my mind, prevents me from sleeping and focusing on the task at hand. And why am I plagued by thoughts of the strange man Aegor showed me? Was all of it just one big hallucination? Or was I truly shown my future?

Life for me, it seems, will never be as simple as I wish it.


	3. Chapter 3

**I have a week off of work, so guess what that means? Well, I can finally work on my stories again, thank the Lord.**

**To be honest, I've been concerned with how the story will move by the time I write for season 7 and season 8, but I think I have everything planned out, which is awesome! In this chapter, we definitely start to see Jaenarys noticing some "Mad King" elements to Dany, but instead likens some of her actions (and their's) to Viserys, as she never knew her father. I know this chapter is on the shorter side, but I'm working on it!**

**This is the third installment of my ****_Game of Thrones_**** series. And as hinted in the previous story, this will eventually be a Robb Stark/OC - this will happen by either the fourth or fifth installment, depending on how many chapters are in this one and storyline and everything. But I will have a chapter in this from Robb's point of view from the Red Wedding episode, explaining the change.**

**As always, bold is for Dothraki conversations, italicized is for Valyrian.**

* * *

"I know, I know Daavi. Please, please work with me. _Daavi, it will all be alright__."_ I finish in my native tongue, my dragon slowly but surely creeping into a cage almost too small for her. She's truly grown so much, even in the last few days.

I walk up to the deck of the ship, Aggo taking Daavi from me with a few other remaining Dothraki. The others are carrying Drogon, my sister walking up to me and taking my hand.

"This will work." She promises

"It better. Because we're fucked if it doesn't." I tell her, still angry about our plan. I know she is, too, but if things go wrong… well, she still has two dragons, but I only have one Daavi. Still, she's my sister. I have to sacrifice what's mine for her. Including my friend, and my life if it comes down to it. The things we do for love.

Missandei greets us on the dock, looking comfortable in my old blue and white dress, and a blue cape similar to my sisters. I'm wearing a red tunic, black riding pants, and my trusted pair of well-worn black boots. Jorah hands me my black cape and I tie it loosely around my neck.

Missandei bows her head at us, my sister smiling in return. I bow back, though. What was the use of freeing her, if we just force her into servitude once more?

Linking her arm in mine, we walk with Dany on her other side away from the ship we stole from Xaro. Our Dothraki and two male advisors flank us as we walk to the courtyard where the exchange will be taking place.

Meta doors are opened before us, and Dany and I enter with stern looks on our faces. We walk down the ramps to observe our new army, Kraznys speaking and Missandei translating. "The master says they are untested. He says you would be wise to blood them early. There are my small cities between here and there, cities ripe for sacking." I watch as other observing masters approach, hoping to look upon our dragons. "Should you take captives, the masters will buy the healthy ones and for a good price." Our small parade walks between where the masters stand and the army is neatly arranged, turning so we come face-to-face with Kraznys. "And who knows? In ten years, some of the boys you send them may be Unsullied in their turn. Thus, all shall prosper."

Dany and I say nothing to the foul men. Instead we turn and walk down towards the cages holding our beloved children and open them as the crowd murmurs.

Daavi waddles out, lifting her leg so I can attach the chain around her scaly, thick ankle. I mutter apologies the whole time, promising she will be freed from her restrain soon. She flies up into the air, but not too high that the leash tugs on her uncomfortably. Dany joins me in walking back up the ramp, and I smirk at the scared look in Kraznys's eyes.

Even if we were to give him Daavi and Drogon, the idiot wouldn't know what to do with them.

Dany hands Drogon over first, and Kraznys takes him, thrustin out the gold whip as Drogon screeches. With his free hand he gestures to take Daavi and I hand her over, smiling to myself when she tugs harshly on his arm, forcing him to stagger.

"Is it done, then? Do they belong to us?" My sister asks.

Missandei translates for her, speaking to Kraznys. He just nods, focusing all his strength on holding our dragons. _"It is done."_

"It is done."

_"They hold the whip."_ Kraznys briefly looks down to where Dany's and my hand meet around the hilt of the gold winged statue.

"You hold the whip."

_"The bitches have their army."_

Missandei doesn't translate the last bit, but Dany and I glare at the unfocused man nonetheless and turn in uniform, as one. Just as most twins do. We walk away from our screeching dragons, doing our hardest not to turn around.

Finally, we stop in front of our new army. With a nod to my sister, she begins. _"Unsullied!"_

They stand at attention, shields to their chests, when they hear my sister speaking in High Valyrian, and I can only imagine the look of shock on everyone's faces.

She nods to me, and I speak next. Holding up the whip with my sister, I take command of her army. It's what she wanted. Me as general. I've always been the fighter.

_"Forward March!"_ They follow their orders. _"Halt."_ They stop.

Behind us, our dragons keep screeching. _"Tell the bitches their beasts won't come!"_ Kraznys shouts. Dany and I turn back, and I glower at the master.

_"A dragon is not a slave, you poor excuse of a man." _Jorah and Missandei look at me in surprise, then Dany.

Kraznys looks at us in shock, no longer focusing on our squirming dragons. _"You speak Valyrian?"_

_"We both do."_ My sister proudly announces. _"We are Daenerys Stormborn and Jaenarys Fireborn of the House Targaryen, of the blood of Old Valyria. Valyrian is our mother tongue!"_

I turn back to the army with my sister, the two of us holding up the whip. "Unsullied! Listen to my sister's words!"

_"Slay the masters!"_ She orders. _"Slay the soldiers, slay every man who holds a whip, but harm no child! Strike the chains off every slave you see!"_

At once, Unsullied break from their neat rows, cutting down the masters who pass by them. Blood begins to soak the sand beneath us. From behind us, Kraznys calls, _"I am your master! Kill them! Kill them! Kill them!"_

Dany and I turn back, giving the coward one last killing glare. _"Dracarys."_

_"Daavi, Dracarys!"_ My sister and I call. A rumbling noise gathers in our dragons' throats, until finally they open their mouths and fire pours out, down onto the master. Despite the smell of burning flesh I smile, happy to see that monster suffering just as those he and his friends have spent their lives abusing, over and over again.

Daavi is the first to burn her chain, Drogon following her. As the battle between slaves and masters erupts around us our dragons fly high above, shooting fire at those who mean to do us or our army harm. I look at the smug grin on my sister's face, and despite the good we have done, there's this madness in her eyes I've only ever seen in Viserys, when he was alive and causing chaos.

And I can't help but wonder if the path we're on will change us both in ways more harmful than good.

* * *

The fires have begun to die out. Kraznys is a burnt corpse. The other masters and their fighters lie dead on the ground, in pools of their own blood. Jorah walks over to where the two of us stand, observing the resulting destruction as smoke and sand blow around us. But we pay him no mind. Instead, we walk down the ramp, making our way through the sea of Unsullied who returned to their original formation, having returned from following Dany's orders and freeing the slaves of Astapor. Ahead of us we see two horses. My beloved Caraxes, and a white mare that must have belonged to a master, for she is well groomed. Still, my black stallion is healthy despite his age, looking strong and fierce in the middle of the gathered Unsullied. With a smile and a kiss to the side of his face I swing up onto his back, happy to once more be riding my horse.

Nodding her way, my sister begins to speak, pacing her horse back and forth while I remain stationary. "_Unsullied! You have been slaves all your life. Today you are free. Any man who wishes to leave may leave, and no one will harm him!"_ She promises. _"We give you our word!"_ No one moves, and she looks to me, urging her younger twin to speak up. I lead Caraxes in the opposite way as her.

_"Will you fight for my sister?" _I ask, for they won't be going to battle to put me on the throne. _"As free men?"_

There is silence, and Dany and I look around worriedly. But moments later, one Unsullied begins to bang his spear onto the ground, joined by his brothers. The thumping sound becomes one, and I trot over to my sister to watch in amazement at the loyalty, hoping that we will earn theirs in time, rather than through purchase. Or, well, theft, because we did just fight dirty. It pains me to say that Viserys would have been proud.

With another nod to me, I give what I hope are also Dany's orders._ "Unsullied! Forward march, through Astapor's gates!"_

They turn and march with us, following Dany and I as we walk our horses through the city, watching those who hanged in the Walk of Punishment being carefully let down by other slaves. Those who have past would be buried, those alive but in need of medical attention, food, and drink would be tended to.

Missandei, Jorah, and Selmy ride behind us, our army behind them or beside us, depending on what column they are in. Dany takes one last look at the golden whip in her hand and throws it to the ground.

Above us, our dragons fly. All four of them. Daavi swoops down, though, never too far from me. As we march away from the city of slaves and into the vast desert between us and the next city I reach my hand out. Daavi flies even lower, nuzzling her head into my hand as we keep moving, Caraxes never once stumbling or kicking in fear.

We are finally on our way.


	4. Chapter 4

**Welcome back! This is another shorter chapter, but here we see Jae start to naturally slip into and accept her new position as the leader of Dany's army.**

**This is the third installment of my ****_Game of Thrones_**** series. And as hinted in the previous story, this will eventually be a Robb Stark/OC - this will happen by either the fourth or fifth installment, depending on how many chapters are in this one and storyline and everything. But I will have a chapter in this from Robb's point of view from the Red Wedding episode, explaining the change.**

**As always, bold is for Dothraki conversations, italicized is for Valyrian.**

* * *

Unlike our experience in the Red Waste, our walk to the nearest city from Astapor is surprisingly pleasant. While hot, the dessert isn't scorching. There are pools of water and trees as we march and trot our way through the mountains. Dany and I ride together, her new white mare just a little faster than my now aging Caraxes. He is not what he once was only two years ago, but he still has life in him. He still rides with honor.

"How likely do you think it is that Jorah and Barristan are exchange war stories?" I ask as we slow towards the edge of a pond, noticing the two older men a great distance away, both looking out at the water with their horses beside them.

My sister laughs and we dismount. "I think, Nary, that there is little doubt about it." Her face becomes more serious when we reach Missandei, a small group of Unsullied marching to stand in front of us.

"These are the ones?" She asks the translator, who nods respectfully, her dress and cape a reverse coloring of what my sister wears. Blue and white, white and blue, and here I stand in my Targaryen colors. Black boots and breeches, and a loose red tunic, arakh and Blackfyre attached to the belt around my waist.

"Yes Khaleesi, the officers." Missandei tells Dany, then smiles at me shyly as I take one of her hands in mine.

My sister nods her head at me before speaking. _"You did not choose this life. But you are free men now, and free men make their own choices. My sister will remain the head of my armies, but I ask only this; have selected your own leader from amongst your rank?"_

The men turn and part in unison, making a straight path between us and their chosen one. He stabs his spear into the ground. _"Remove your helmet."_ I kindly order, and he does as I command, walking forward with his head bent in respect before he looks up at my sister and I. He's young, maybe only a few years older than Dany and me.

_"This one has the honor."_ The man responds.

_"What is your name?"_ My sister asks.

_"Grey Worm." _The Unsullied responds, face void of any true emotions. I feel an anger burning in my chest. To strip a person of what makes the human is absolutely vile, and I wish we had made the masters suffer more. But rage is a dangerous thing. Even when justified, there are always consequences for those actions.

_"Grey Worm?"_ My sister asks softly, then looks to Missandei.

"All Unsullied are given new names when they are cut. Grey Worm, Red Flea, Black Rat. Names that remind them what they are. Vermin."

_"From this day forward, you will choose your own names. You will tell your fellow soldiers to do the same."_ My sister commands. _"Throw away your slave names. Choose the name your parents gave you, or anything else. A name that gives you pride."_

_"'Grey Worm' gives me pride. It is a lucky name. The name this one was born with was cursed. That was the name he had when he was taken as a slave. But Grey Worm is the name this one had when the day Daenerys Stormborn and Jaenarys Fireborn set him free."_ Grey Worm declares, and I smile.

_"Well then, Grey Worm. It is nice to meet you."_ I let go of Missandei's hand and walk towards the leader of the Unsullied, holding out my arm. I place one hand on his forearm, and after a moment he does the same to me.

_"This one is honored to have met Jaenarys Fireborn."_

I smile and clap him friendly on the shoulder. He doesn't move or blink. _"Jae, Grey Worm. You may call me Jae. We are friends, now."_

_"This one is honored once more."_ I release his arm and step back.

_"We will be moving again. You are dismissed."_ I command, stepping into a role gifted to me by my sister. The men grunt and stand back at attention, Grey Worm putting his helmet on before turning and grabbing his spear, the men following him.

"I knew you would be good at that." My sister comments, and I turn to look at her.

"Good at what?" I raise one of my eyebrows in confusion. She smiles and takes my hand, a proud glint in her green eyes.

"Leading. Commanding an army."

"All I did was give an order." I tell her, walking towards the water to bend down and splash the cool liquid on my face. Missandei and Dany both approach me, and I stare at their reflections from my crouched position.

"It was more than that. You treated him with respect."

"Aye. But I'm not a true commander. I've never seen war. I've only been in fights. Ser Barristan and Jorah, they should have my position." I stand and face the two other young women. My sister sighs and purses her lips, doing that thing where she stares into my violet eyes and reads my soul, just as I do for her.

"You may not have the experience, but you are whom I trust the most to help me take the throne. And Ser Jorah and Ser Barristan will advise you, I'm sure. But our ancestors were more than conquerors, they were warriors, leaders in battle. You have the mind of Visenya, and the heart of Rhaenys." She speaks of Aegon I Targaryen's sister-wives, both crucial in his conquest of Westeros.

"You truly believe that?" I ask her, and Dany take my hands with a smile, kissing my forehead.

"I have seen it, time and again. You were always the bravest of us, the strongest. You are as true a dragon as me, and though you have never wished to wear a crown or sit on a throne, if anything were to ever happen to me, I know my people would be in good hands."

I close my eyes at the softness in her voice. In the past few years she's been hardened, but in moments like these, who she once was before Viserys sold her - that absolute cunt - manage to make me more sure of myself than any amount of worship and respect from people we encounter. She is my twin, and I am hers, and our blood is shared.

Moments like these also give me hope. Hope that I am not too optimistic in seeing my sister a great ruler, rather than one who repeats the history of our family.

And it is my job to ensure that never happens, or all of our efforts would have been for naught.

So I let my sister lead me to our horses and I climb back onto Caraxes, holding out my hand for Missandei to take. After a moment of hesitation - I don't believe anyone could ever truly get used to how improper I act when it comes to my own status of Princess - she takes it and allows me to pull her behind me. Our march continues, and I find my eyes trained on the box carrying Daavi. When she's grown, I can only hope to ride her as Rhaenys once rode her own dragon. I can imagine it. Myself on the back of a most feared beast. She will be kind, yes, and free and untamed. She will be mine, and I hers. We will fly high in the sky or low to the ground, soar over mountains and forests and seas. My sister's army shall ride beneath us, and in battle we will win, or die trying.

I can only hope that the man Aegor claimed will be mine shall not be too terrified. I suppose that'd make our potential relationship all the more awkward.


	5. Chapter 5

**Welcome back! This is another shorter chapter, but here we see Jae start to naturally slip into and accept her new position as the leader of Dany's army.**

**This is the third installment of my ****_Game of Thrones_**** series. And as hinted in the previous story, this will eventually be a Robb Stark/OC - this will happen by either the fourth or fifth installment, depending on how many chapters are in this one and storyline and everything. But I will have a chapter in this from Robb's point of view from the Red Wedding episode, explaining the change. **

**FOR THOSE OF YOU WHO HAVE SEEN SEASON 8, EPISODE 5:**

**As mentioned a couple of episodes ago, I'm gonna start to sprinkle in more mad queen clues and try to improve what D&D rushed. As much as I don't want "mad queen" it's honestly where my own story was going to veer. Don't worry, big sis D will remain complex, but the signs will be there. Just as the clues for everything in the actual series were there, but honestly were too subtle, again RUSHED, and D&D are not the "great writers" they claim to be. They aight, but they aren't the shit. The luxury of fan fiction and telling your own version of the story is that you are in control. I will be pretty much sticking to the outline of the canon, with obvious exceptions [ie Robb being alive]. I also obviously have big plans for Jae, because the coin the gods toss when a Targaryen is born already landed for her.**

**As always, bold is for Dothraki conversations, italicized is for Valyrian.**

**And a special thank you to all the people who stuck with me so far on the journey. If you don't like where this story will ultimately end, that's fine. You can't make everyone happy. If you want to hope off the train now that's okay, but please don't leave hate just because I'm not going in the direction you like. Instead, go out there and write your own stories the way _you_ want. Still, please stick with me. I may end up changing my mind as the story goes on. **

* * *

After three more days of walking, we reach the next city. It's as grand as Astapor, with the same winged statue - a Harpy, in honor of the same creature of Essos myth. Jorah told me this same statue is used all over Slaver's Bay, a symbol of what such places are to the world. Monstrous. Vicious.

I walk with Grey Worm, behind my sister, Ser Barristan, and Jorah. We're but two soldiers, after all. Two warriors whose purpose it is to fight for their Queen.

"Yunkai. The Yellow City." I hear Jorah tell his Khaleesi, and Ser Barristan stands on the edge of the rocks beside them.

"The Yunkish train bed slaves. Not soldiers. We can defeat them." He tells us.

I can still smell burning flesh, see walls crumbling. The fire in my sister's eyes still burns in my dreams. I hope mine weren't, but the thought of myself enjoying the screams terrifies me. No matter how much those men deserved it. And it wasn't the first time I'd killed. I have blood on my hands. I'm a killer, the Princess Who Kills, her Valyrian sword light as a feather in her hands.

I'm scared that with the fire and blood that surrounds me, I will become my brother and the ruthless ancestors he and history have taught me about. And when I look at Dany, I fear the same for her. She has a good heart - one of the kindest I've known. But my whole life, I've seen the darkness in her too. The strength that grows in her because of power. Even the kindest of hearts can be corrupted too much unchecked authority. Still, she's surrounded by love. That should be enough to keep her sane. To keep me sane.

I've been too in my head to listen to the rest of the conversation, but Dany's declaration of, "The we have 200,000 reasons to take the city."

200,000 reasons. 200,000 innocent souls who deserve every man and woman's basic right of freedom.

But I will not let this city burn. And I hope Dany won't, either. There are ways to save lives without careless destruction.

She turns to Grey Worm and I, but focuses on the Unsullied leader. _"Send a man to the city gates. Tell the slavers I will receive them here, and accept their surrender. Otherwise, Yunkai will suffer the same fate as Astapor."_

The slavers had better be smarter than they are overconfident, because the fire in my sister's eyes grows again. She likes it, I think to myself. She likes the power. And I realize, I do too. More than I thought I would.

Grey Worm nods his head and turns, giving me a parting nod as well. My sister pays me no mind, however. She just turns back to the city. "Ser Barristan, Ser Jorah. Please allow me to speak to my sister in private." The men nod and bow to the both of us, walking away to take care of preparations. "Nary." Her voice is softer than before.

I obey, as that is what I must do, and approach her, standing at her side. She's still dressed in her blue outfit and white cape, though it's been cleaned on our journey. I stand straight in an entirely different outfit than the day before. A black dress with two slits cut on each side to reveal my red breeches and leather boots. Clothes made for me in Qarth, nearly a month ago. "I am doing the right thing?" She asks, voice a little shaky.

"My Queen -" I can hear her roll her blue-green eyes as she turns my chin to look at her.

"I am your sister first, Nary. I need to know, am I doing the right thing?"

"Freeing 200,000 people from the cruelest of fates? Yes. But it must be done in the right way. Jorah and Barristan may not speak Valyrian, but I do."

"What are you suggesting then, if the slavers do not surrender? In Fire and Blood, we get what we want." She reminds me, voice strong when she says our House words.

I shake my head. "Fire and Blood is not always the answer. There are other ways to succeed in our goals."

"You don't approve of using our dragons?" She asks me. "Even on those who deserve it?" I don't respond and she sighs, removing her hand from under my chin and stepping away. "There will come a time where you'll accept who you really are. You are a Targaryen." She looks back down at the city, and I watch her.

"Dany, the power we have thanks to our dragons, this fire in us… using it without fearing the consequences of such destruction is a dangerous slope. Our family is mad. Strong, but mad."

"Is that why you never wanted to return to Westeros? Have never craved power? Are you that afraid of our family?" She asks me, frustrated. "For all your strength in a fight, you have only weakened yourself by pretending to be someone you are not."

I growl, throwing out my arms. "Yes, I'm scared! I don't want to be like the rest of our family! Is that so wrong?"

"You would turn your back on what is ours in exchange for a coward's life on the run." She tells me, no question in her voice.

"Not on the run!"

"You would call it exploring, but in reality you would be hiding from the world." Daenerys tells me. "You would be hiding from yourself."

"I don't know who I am!" I shout, panting heavily. "All I've ever known is that, no matter what I want to do with my life, the first thing I must do is keep you safe. And I can only keep you safe if I am in control of myself. So yes, I am scared of madness. Because if I'm mad, then I will have failed you."

I turn and start to walk away, but a hand tugs on my elbow and stops me. "Wait. Wait. I'm sorry." I turn to look at my sister, who is biting her lips. "I am just so angry, all the time, under it all. You're right, you know. I need you sane, to keep me sane."

"So are you. Right, I mean." I take her hand. "You are strong. You must remain strong at heart, like the best rulers."

"Thank you Nary. But please, stop being so afraid. You will become who you were meant to be. A true Targaryen, no matter if you were a crown or not." With that she leaves me to stare out at the city, even less sure of myself than before.

* * *

Dany and I sit in the meeting tent, Daavi perched on my seat while Viserion rests on a stand behind my sister, Drogon and Rhaegal sitting next to her. The sound of drums announces the arrival of the master, who is carried in by slaves. Perhaps he does not know the value of walking? Well, he will soon find out.

"Now comes the nobel Razdal mo Eraz, of that ancient and honorable house, Master of Men and Speaker to Savages, to offer terms of peace." Missandei - Deia, as I've affectionately begun to call my new friend - announces, slipping back to easily into the role Kraznys demanded of her. But it will take time, to truly help free her and the others. The past is always there, no matter how we wish to ignore it.

The man falters when Dany's dragons screech in dominance, just as my sister radiates it in her white dress. But Daavi remains silent. Not welcoming, but observant. Just as her namesake was.

Missandei appears amused, though. "You are in the presence of Daenerys Stormborn of House Targaryen, Queen of the Andals and the First Men, Khaleesi of the Great Grass Sea, Breaker of Chains and Mother of Dragons, and her sister Princess Jaenarys Fireborn of House Targaryen, Dragonmother, the Liberator, the Sword of Justice."

The last two are the titles my sister demanded of me. Titles I never wanted. Even "Princess" can be a burden.

"You may approach. Sit." My sister orders with a smirk, more confident than I've ever seen her.

Razdal mo Eraz hesitates, and I take that time to fold my hands into my lap, now wearing a red dress with layered satin.

"Will the noble lord take refreshment?" Missandei asks the man, and when he nods she pours him some water. After taking a sip he sets the goblet down, eyes trained on my sister, never on me. And why should it be? Next to my sister I appear demure, the lesser threat. That's probably because the folds of my soft dress hide my blade.

"Ancient and glorious is Yunkai." The man starts, and I hide my snort of disgust. "Our empire was old before dragons stirred in old Valyria. Many an army has broken against our walls. You shall find no easy conquest here, Khaleesi. Princess. " As he speaks my sister focuses on the small chest with horse meat, and tosses one piece in the air so her three dragons screech and fight over it. I take another piece and toss it without looking, Daavi snapping it into her mouth with her quick reflexes.

"Good." My sister responds, smirking. "Our Unsullied need practice. We were told to blood them early."

"If blood is your desire, blood shall flow. But why? 'Tis true you have committed savageries in Astapor, but the Yunkai are a forgiving and generous people." He claps and four slaves come forward in pairs, setting down chests of gold. "The wise masters of Yunkai have sent a gift for the Silver Queen and Violet Princess. There is far more than this awaiting you on the deck of your ship."

"My ship?" She asks.

"Yes, Khaleesi. As I said, we are a generous people. You shall have as many ships as you require."

"And what do you ask in return?" I speak up, lips pursed in thought, as though I'm buying into his little plan.

"All we ask is that you make use of these ships. Sail them back to Westeros where you belong, and leave us to conduct our affairs in peace."

My sister and I look at the shivering, kneeling slaves. People should not be made to bend the knee, not like this.

"We have a gift for you as well." Dany tells him, and the master sits up straight. "Your life."

"My life?"

"And the lives of your wise masters. But I also want something in return. You will release every slave in Yunkai. Every man, woman, and child shall be given as much food, clothing, and property as they can carry as payment for their years of servitude. Reject this gift, and we shall show you no mercy."

"You are mad." He leans forward. "We are not Astapor or Qarth. We are Yunkai, and we have powerful friends. Friends who would take great pleasure in destroying you. Those who survive we shall enslave once more." Deep breath in. "Perhaps we'll make a slave of you as well!" As he stands and lunges forward I breathe out, Drogon and Daavi both screeching in anger. As they shriek at the slaver I stand and pull out my sword, twirling it in my hand as Ser Barristan taught me. The shiny blade catches Razdal's eyes, and he flinches once more.

"You swore me safe conduct!" Razdal tells us, fear shaking his voice.

"We did. But our dragons made no promises. And you threatened their mothers." Dany tells him, then smirks up at me. "My sister is very protective. A true loyal soul. Honorable." She sneers down at the man. "Not stupid."

"Take the gold." Razdal orders his slaves, but Drogon screeches again and they back away. I want to scold the dragon for scaring the innocent, but feel pride for Daavi who remained perched on the cushions behind me, her eyes only glaring at the master.

"Our gold. You gave it to us, remember?" I ask, voice gently but sword still drawn.

"And we shall put it to good use." My sister tells the man. "You'd be wise to do the same with my gift to you. Now get out."

With an angered breath the man turns and storms past Missandei, throwing her the most disgusting look I've ever seen before continuing on his way, flanked by the slaves. He mutters in Valyrian, but I catch the insults he throws out about us. They don't bother me. But when he calls Missandei a "simple savage whore" I walk over to her.

_"Deia."_ I gently take her hand.

_"It is okay, Jae."_ She smiles at me, having gotten used to speaking to me as an equal. _"I heard worse from Kraznys."_

_"I wish you never did. I wish I could go back before it all and stop what has been happening for years."_ She looks down at the ground, tears in her eyes.

_"As would I, Jae."_

"The Yunkish are a proud people. They will not bend." Ser Barristan tells us as the small party from Yunaki leaves.

"And what happens to things that don't bend?" Dany asks. "He said he had powerful friends. Who was he talking about?" I look at Jorah just as she does, curious as well.

"I don't know." She nods then turns to me.

"Find out."

"Yes, Your Grace. Daavi, stay with your aunt." I order, laughing a bit as Dany rolls her eyes at my curtsy before I turn and walk to my private tent to change it proper scouting clothes.

I may not know yet who I am to be, but for know I shall be the Liberator.


	6. Chapter 6

**Welcome back! In this chapter we get some badass Jae circa season 1, a little more backstory of her life pre-series, another confrontation between sisters, and the new ally. Enjoy!**

**This is the third installment of my ****_Game of Thrones_**** series. And as hinted in the previous story, this will eventually be a Robb Stark/OC - this will happen by either the fourth or fifth installment, depending on how many chapters are in this one and storyline and everything. Regardless, the next chapter will also have Robb's point of view from the Red Wedding episode, explaining the change.**

**As always, bold is for Dothraki conversations, italicized is for Valyrian.**

**And a special thank you to all the people who stuck with me so far on the journey. If you don't like where this story will ultimately end, that's fine. You can't make everyone happy. If you want to hope off the train now that's okay, but please don't leave hate just because I'm not going in the direction you like. Instead, go out there and write your own stories the way _you_ want. Still, please stick with me. I may end up changing my mind as the story goes on.**

**Thanks to all the reviewers; ****Secret world, Padfootette, fallondyson, Crystal-Wolf-Guardain-967, NightlyRowenTree, and UnknownReaderHasJoined! You're support and love for this story and Baby Jae means the world to me, and I hope I don't let you down! **

**And to Mr. Tycoon, I'm not inclined to listen to someone who immediately goes on the attack. You don't like Robb, that's fine. But the beauty of fan fiction is you can change things up. I encourage you to continue reading to see what I do with Robb, whose character gets explored way more. If this story isn't for you, that's fine, I understand. But next time you find an issue with a story, maybe be a little kinder. There's enough anger in the world, after all.**

* * *

Finding the powerful friends of Razdal and his other vicious master friends was relatively easy, considering there are thousands of men riding horses as though they're the storm. Sellswords. I'd seen quite a few in other Free Cities, drinking in the streets or stumbling out of whorehouses.

I turn to my sister, who I called upon to come and see what I have. We're flanked by Jorah and Barristan, Grey Worm and a handful of Unsullied guarding us. "Men who fight for gold have neither honor nor loyalty. They cannot be trusted." Ser Barristan councils us.

"They can be trusted to kill you if they're well paid. The Yunkish are paying them well."

"You know these men?" Dany asks Ser Barristan, but I answer.

"You see those broken swords on their banners?" I point at one, and she nods. "They're the Second Sons. I met a few in Pentos when I was… out for a walk." My sister narrows her eyes at me but doesn't ask for clarification.

"Who leads them?" She asks me, and I turn to Jorah, not knowing the answer.

"A Braavosi name Mero, the Titan's Bastard."

"Is he more titan or bastard?" Dany asks, and I smirk at the men riding.

"I'd wager he's more man, considering he kills, drinks, and fucks like the rest of us. _Valar morghulis_."

My sister lets out a small laugh, but Jorah's blue eyes bore into my violet. "He's a dangerous man, little dragon. They all are."

"How many?" She asks me.

"2,000, Daenerys. Armored and mounted."

"Enough to make a difference?" She asks me, and I look to Ser Barristan, still getting used to this whole "leadership" position. He nods subtly at me, and I turn to my sister.

"Yes."

She thinks, then gives me a serious look with fire growing in her blue-green eyes. It's captivating and dangerous, but isn't burning as intense as it did in Astapor. Perhaps this is merely my new reality now; she's only become more dangerous, but her heart is still there. "It's hard to collect wages from a corpse. I'm sure the sellswords prefer to fight for the winning side."

"I imagine you're right." Jorah agrees.

"I'd like to talk to the Titan's Bastard about winning."

"He may not agree to meet." Ser Barristan tells my sister, but she only smirks.

"He will. A man who fights for gold can't afford to lose to two girls."

* * *

As the leader and a few of his men approach the meeting tent, I stand off to the side, a tan scarf and cloak wrapped around my body, hiding my hair, my revealing red dress, and my arakh and Blackfyre. Dany and I both agree I should stay out of view, in case things were to go horribly wrong.

Ser Barristan introduces the men to my sister, but I can only hear voices from my spot outside the tent. No matter, I saw them as they approached. "Your Grace, allow me to present the captains of the Second Sons. Mero of Braavos, Prendahl na Ghezn, and, um…"

"Daario Naharis." The younger man introduces himself, voice surprisingly calming for a sellsword. From what I saw of him, he's tall with dark hair and quite muscular. Just her type.

As the three walk forward I move like a shadow to stand behind them. Mero walks with arrogant confidence, and my body shivers in disgust as he speaks. "So, you're the Mother of Dragons?" I can't see my sister, but I imagine she's smiling quite pleasantly, as she used to before Viserys sold her. "I swear I fucked you once in a pleasure house in Lys. Or maybe that was your sister. Where is the Dragonmother?" Mero asks.

"Mind your tongue." Jorah warns.

"Why? I didn't mind hers. Or theirs." As the three men walk to sit to by Dany I walk around the tent once more, watching as the breeze moves some of the curtains. "She licked my ass like she was born to do it." My nose wrinkles as his tongue flaps around wetly. Still, everyone's so focused on Dany that they don't hear me standing behind a red curtain, completely obscured from view.

Sneaking past Viserys was harder than this shit.

"You, slave girl, bring wine." Mero orders. If that horrible excuse for a man touches Missandei, I will -

"We have no slaves here." Dany tells him.

"You'll all be slaves after the battle, unless I save you. Take your clothes off and come sit on Mero's lap, and I may give you my Second Sons."

"Give me your second sons, and I may not have you gelded."

Mero snorts. "Perhaps your sister shall keep my cock warm, then, as we talk. Why don't you go fetch her. I've heard stories all about the fierce little Targaryen who rides with the Dothraki, who would fight from here to there in the Free Cities. Or do you not know the stories of your wild twin? Word travels fast about the silver-haired girl with violet eyes of old."

"My sister is indeed we'd." I smile at the pride in my sister's voice. "But she would sooner kill you. And it will not be pleasurable." She clears her throat. "Ser Barristan, how many men fight for the Second Sons?"

"Under 2,000, Your Grace."

"We have more, don't we?"

"10,000 Unsullied."

"I'm only a young girl new to the ways of war, but perhaps a seasoned captain like yourself can explain to me how you propose to defeat us?"

"I hope the old man is better with a sword than he is with a lie." Daario Naharis speaks up. "You have 8,000 Unsullied."

"You're very young to be a captain." Despite the situation I grin to myself. I can hear the interest in my sister's voice.

"He's not a captain, he's a lieutenant." Prendahl tells her.

"Even if your numbers are right, you must admit the odds don't favor your side."

"The Second Sons have faced worse odds and won." Mero announces.

"The Second Sons have faced worse odds and won." Jordan quips and I bite my lip to stop my laugh.

"Or you could fight for me." My sister offers.

Mero laughs. "We've taken the slavers' gold. We fight for Yunkai."

"I would pay you as much and more."

"Our contract is our bond." Prendahl tells her. "If we break our bond, no one will hire the Second Sons again."

"Ride with me, and you'll never need another contract. You'll have gold, and castles, and lordships of your choosing when I take back the Seven Kingdoms."

"You have no ships. You have no siege weapons. You have no cavalry." Dario reminds her, but not in a completely condescending way.

"A fortnight ago, I had no army. A year ago, my sister and I had no dragons. You have two days to decide."

"Show me your cunt." Mero tells her, and my hand reaches for the hilt of my arakh. "I want to see if it's worth fighting for."

As he finishes speaking I swiftly sneak out from behind the curtain and hold back his head, the curved blade of my Dothraki weapon pressed against his neck and my tan scarf fluttering to the floor beneath me.

"Now, now. That wasn't very polite, Mero of Braavos." I sing out, smirking down at the large man and staring into his eyes. To my disgust there's lust in them, and I have no doubt he's getting hard.

_"Jaenarys, please. These men are our guests."_

I smile at her, sending my amused twin a wink. _"Yes, but this is my way of showing love to rude men."_

"My, my, my. The stories do you no justice, Princess. Tell me, did you put on that dress for the Titan's Bastard?" Mero asks me, confident despite the blade at his throat. I release his head and swing my arakh in my hand, smiling kindly at the other two sellswords.

"I'm sure the stories are all lies, Mero." I give Jorah a look that begs for trust and steel my rolling stomach, sitting on the armrest and allowing the gross Braavosi man to wrap his arm around my waist.

I used to do this, back when I needed to get money for my sister and brother. Charm men years my senior and get what I needed as a result. Never anything sexual. Well, only when I wanted it to be, and only after my fifteenth name day.

There's a reason I chose this dress, though. It's redder than blood, the top low-cut to reveal my cleavage and belly button. The skirt it long, with slits reaching my upper-thighs. There's no sleeves, as the top ties behind my neck, the back cut out.

"Oh, I've heard many about the Targaryen Princess with violet eyes riding sellswords like me, a goddess unparalleled. So why don't you strip and sit on my fat cock, then maybe I'll change my mind." He leers at me, tongue wetting his lips.

I smirk and lean forward, as though I'm about to kiss him. But just as I'm a hair away from pressing my lips to his I peck his forehead and stand, walking around him to sit on my sister's side, legs tucked under my butt. "I'm afraid you'd never be able to handle me."

My sister smiles, but the look in her eyes tells me she isn't entirely pleased. "You seem to be enjoying my wine. Perhaps you'd like a flagon to help you ponder."

"Only a flagon? And what are my brothers-in-arms to drink?"

"A barrel, then." I offer, biting my lip innocently as I look at the Braavosi. He smirks back.

"Good. The Titan's Bastard does not drink alone." He sets down his goblet and walks away, but not before turning to look at us once more. "In the Second Sons, we share everything. After the battle, maybe we'll all share you." He looks to me, then. "You may bring your weapons, if you wish. But they'll do you no good." He turns around and walks past Missandei. "I'll come looking for you when this is over." He smacks her ass and keeps walking and I shoot up and rush forward, only for Missandei to wrap an arm around me.

"Jae, no." She whispers. "I am alright."

As the three men walk away, my sister clears her throat. "Ser Barristan, if it comes to battle… kill that one first."

"Gladly, Your Grace. Princess."

"Now, all of you, please excuse us. I wish to speak to my sister, alone." I watch as the others bow then walk away, clearing the area.

There are a few tense moments of silence before I clear my throat. "Well, he wasn't -"

"Was he telling the truth?" My sister interrupts, unimpressed.

I raise an eyebrow. "I'm sorry?"

"Oh, you will be, if you do not answer every question I ask you honestly." Her voice become dangerously calm. "Was he telling the truth?"

"Which time?"

"Have you slept with a sellsword?"

"No." She raises an eyebrow. "Five."

"Five. So you're no maiden, even though you have not yet married?"

I glare. "Neither was Viserys, and he fucked every dumb girl he came across."

"Is that how you knew those men are Second Sons?"

"Yes." I admit. "I slept with three of them, and two from the Golden Company."

"And how is it that you managed to do so while we were both under the watchful eye of our horrid brother?"

I scoff. "Danny, please. You knew I was sneaking out. How else did you think I was making money?"

"You sold your body five times?" She growls, standing up and stalking towards me. "How could you do that to yourself? And what will others think of me when news finally spreads to Westeros that my sister was a common whore."

"No, I never sold my body! I chose to have sex after my fifteenth name day! I made money by fighting men in alleyways or in small fighting pits. I charmed men into giving me gold, food, and drink so I could share with you. But I'm so glad that you're more concerned about your reputation in Westeros than you are of how all of what I've done to keep you alive has done to me!" I shout, panting. "Our family has married brother and sister, sometime two at once, but the prospect of me being a whore five times upsets you?"

"Do not speak to me like that! I am your Queen!"

"What happened to you being my sister first? Or is that only when it benefits you?"

"How could you drape yourself like that next to the Titan Bastard?"

"Easily." I shrug. "Well, not really, I wanted to vomit the whole time. He's breath is quite awful."

"Jaenarys, this isn't a joke!" She yells at me. "He could have hurt you!" Her shoulders sag. "You could have been hurt so many times. And I wouldn't know what to do."

"Oh, Dany." I finally get what she's been trying to say and wrap her in a hug. "I'm not sorry for all the fights I got into, all the gross men I had to talk to. And I'm not sorry for having sex, as I did that for me on my own terms. But I am sorry I never told you. I should have."

"I'm sorry, too, for insinuating that I cared more about my reputation. Let them say what they'd like. You could always cut out their tongues." I laugh tearfully with her. Yes, I suppose I could.

* * *

I sit beside my sister's tub as Missandei bathes her, having cleaned myself nearly an hour before. After the long-awaited confrontation with my sister about my less-than-innocent past, I didn't want to feel another person's touch. I felt like a caged animal. But I'm better now, more free than before.

"Nineteen?" Dany asks Missandei.

"Yes, Your Grace." She laughs softly.

"How can anyone speak nineteen languages?" My sister asks.

I whistle. "And I thought my speaking three was impressive. You're incredible, Deia."

The darker girl blushes. "Thank you, Jae. You are quite exceptional when you speak Dothraki." She continues washing Dany, addressing her now. "It only took Your Grace a year to learn Dothraki reasonably well." I smile down at my silk red-and-black robe, but Dny doesn't seem to hear her at first.

"Yes, well, it was either learn Dothraki or grunt at my husband and hope… What do you mean, 'reasonably well'?" I laugh outright, the pick up Blackfyre and begin to polish the blade.

"Dothraki is difficult for the mouth to master so guttural and harsh." Missandei attempts to soothe her.

**"Drogo said I spoke Dothraki like one born to it. It gave him great pride." **Wincing a bit at the sounds she's making, I lean forward to correct her last word. "Athjahakar", or "pride"

**"Athjahakar."** I correct, winking at Missandei.

**"Athjahaka."** She tries.

Missandei leans down, a patient look on her face.** "Ath-ja-hakar."** She sounds out.

**"Athjahakar."** I smile at my sister, proud, a similar yet soft version on Missandei's face. "Well, I suppose I'm a bit out of practice." My sister concedes. "How come you're still speaking so well?"

I smirk. "Not being Queen gives me some time to talk with our khalassar. Aggo insists I do so while he trains me. As does Jorah. Ser Barristan makes sure I remember the common tongue." Dany and Missandei laugh.

"Jorah tells me your training is going well. I heard you bested him and Ser Barristan only a few days ago."

I smile at the memory. "Yes. I don't think they were expecting it."

"Well, my sister is always doing the unexpected." She smiles warmly at me.

Missandei turn to get a new bottle of oils. "Still, your High Valyrian is very good, Your Grace. And my Princess. The Gods could not devise more perfect tongues." I grin once more and look down at my blade. "It is the only proper language for poetry." Suddenly she gasps, and I stand with Blackfyre pointed at the man covering her mouth. He just snorts and walks in the opposite direction, knife to Missandei's throat.

"No screaming, or she dies." I narrow my eyes at the familiar but muffled voice.

"Take off the helmet, you coward. You're obviously not an Unsullied." He moves the throat from Missandei's neck and removes his helmet. "Gods, you're dramatic." I gripe, Daario smirking at me.

"What do you want?" My sister asks, and remembering that she's naked I stand in front of the tub, sword at Daario's exposed chest.

"You. Not the Princess." He clarifies and I roll my eyes.

"You're not my type, either." I remark, then watch as he moves the knife back against Missandei's throat. "Let her go."

He leans in to my best friend's ear. "Don't scream, lovely girl." He releases her and I take her hand, tugging her behind me, blade refusing to lower.

"You were sent here to kill me." My sister surmises. Daario laughs. "So why haven't you?"

"I don't want to."

"What do your captains have to say about that."

"You should ask them." He removes the satchel around his torso and lets the contents roll onto the floor. The heads of Mero and Prendahl stare up at us. Missandei gasps but I only frown.

"Why?" I ask him, curious.

"We had philosophical differences."

"Over what?"

"Your beauty. Well, your sister's beauty." He glances at Dany before looking at me. "Mero was quite enamored with you."

"Gross." I wrinkle my nose, and he smirks before focusing on my sister.

"Your beauty meant more to me than it did to them."

"You're a strange man." She comments.

"I'm the simplest man you'll ever meet. I only do what I want to do."

"And this is supposed to impress me?"

Daario smiles. "Yes."

"Why would I trust a man who murders his own comrades?"

"They ordered me to murder you." He tells her. "I told them I preferred not to. They told me I had no choice. I told them, 'I am Daario Naharis. I always have a choice.' They drew their swords, and I drew mine."

I watch as my sister stands, baring herself to the strange sellsword. Missandei helps her out and robes her, removing the pin from her hair and realizing the long silver locks.

"Will you fight for me?" She asks. He nods and she walks forward, passing me without a word. "Swear to me."

He gets down on one knee and holds out his own arakh in front of him. "The Second Sons are yours. And so is Daario Naharis. My sword is yours, my life is yours, my heart is yours."

And I'm sure, if all ends well, he will give her one more thing.


	7. Chapter 7

**Welcome back! **

**Okay guys, this is it. The Chapter That Was Promised. We've got two POVs here: Jae in Yunkai, and Robb Stark. We're gonna see how the King in the North survives. I didn't want to draw it out, because I didn't want to overdo it. Instead, I wanted to get his most immediate thoughts right before the moment he's supposed to die. It obviously won't be a nice survival, because hello, _Game of Thrones_. However, this won't be the last time we see things from Robb's perspective; there's a chapter coming up in my fourth installment of _Fireborn_ that will include more of his voice.**

**So, to recap, after this chapter Robb Stark's story is going to be AU, because he isn't going to die. His watch has not ended. He's gotta meet his Dragon Princess Across the Narrow Sea. He's going to evolve more than he did on the show. He'll still make mistakes and act with his heart even more than with his head, but if I do this all right, he and Jae will be a nice complement to each other. He'll be smarter though, a little broken, but he and Jae will become a cute little Ohana.**

**This chapter isn't just about Robb, though. Because this is primarily a "Jaenarys" story, the focus is still on her. We'll see the more vicious-fighter side of Jae that hasn't really come out since _Fireborn_, when she fought Qotho. As stated in the previous few chapters, Jorah and Ser Barristan have spent time training her, so she's become quite an accomplished swordswoman. And because I miss Daavi, she'll be in this too. Because dragons, man. Specifically Daavi, who I also have plans for.**

**Anyway, enjoy! I only own my lovely Jae and Daavi, and the Robb plot-thing I have going on. Italicized is Valyrian dialogue, bold is Dothraki.**

* * *

_Yunkai (Jae's POV)..._

Ser Barristan, Jorah, Grey Worm, Daario, and my sister stand gathered around a small table in the meeting tent, looking over the map of Yunkai as provided by the lieutenant of the Second Sons. I'm sitting on the ledge behind Dany, sharpening my arakh with a whetstone, Blackfyre shining next to me in the sunlight.

"Where?" My sister asks.

"There." I hear Daario say, and look up to see him walk around and stand behind Dany, taking her hand in his and pointing to the correct spot on the map. I look at them with amusement, having not seen my sister interested in another man since Drogo. But when I see the pain in Jorah's eyes I begin to frown. I only fear that his love for her will be his downfall, and as awful I feel for suggesting loving my sister brings death, I don't want to lose my friend, my mentor. "There. It's a back gate." Daario steps back, but moves so I can still peer at the table from where I'm sitting. "My men use it when they visit Yunkai's bed slaves."

I make a noise of derision. "The company you keep."

Daario smirks. "A man has to make money, Princess." I wrinkle my nose at the title, and he laughs.

"Your men, but not you?" Jorah asks, rubbing his chin.

"I have no interest in slaves. A man cannot make love to property."

I look down to hide my amused snort when I see the lust in Dany's eyes. But why shouldn't she be enamored by this man? She's still ten-and-seven, after all. A widow, yes, but a young one.

"This is where we enter the city. Very few guards. They know me." Daario tells us. "They let me inside…"

"We're not gonna sneak an army through a back gate." Ser Barristan argues.

"I kill the guards. I take your two best men and lead them through the back streets, which I know well, and open the front gates. Then comes the army." He offers. "Once the walls are breached, the city will fall in hours."

"Or perhaps you'll lead Grey Worm and me to the slaughter, cutting the head off our army. The masters of Yunkai will pay you your fee, and you won't have to split it three ways 'cause you've already slaughtered your partners." Jorah accuses.

"You have a very suspicious mind." The dark-haired sellsword remarks, amused. "In my experience, only dishonest people think this way."

Jorah sighs and turns to Grey Worm. "You command the Unsullied. What do you think?"

_"You are a leader now." _My sister gently reminds him._ "Do you trust him?"_

_"I trust him."_

My sister smirks and leans back. "You leave tonight."

"Very well, we'll prepare -" Before Jorah can continue I stand up.

"Hold up one bloody moment." They turn to me, as if startled at my outburst. Well, it is the loudest I've been in awhile. "I'm coming with you."

Jorah shakes his head. "No, young Princess. It is far too dangerous."

"I am the damned head of Daenerys's armies, and if you think for one moment that I'm going to sit back and not help in a fight, you clearly haven't been paying attention to who I am!" I passionately declare.

Dany only shakes her head. "No, I can't lose you. You being the head of my armies is exactly why I need you by my side right now. There will be other fights."

"Your Grace, it is true that you are quite the fighter, but a real battle is different. You are not prepared for -"

"Ser Barristan." I interrupt, gently but firm. He stops speaking. "This would not be my first real fight, nor my first battle. I have met and beat men when I was only ten-and-three, without any proper training. I fought and survived a fight with a Dothraki." I look at my sister, voice impossibly soft when I see the fear of being alone in the world, of losing me. "Dany, I know you're scared of losing me. But I have to do this. I cannot stand idle by. I was meant to find Blackfyre for a reason. And if I were to perish in this fight, at least it was for a great cause - freedom. Please, Dany, you have to let me go." I plead.

She lets out a breath, her eyes flicking from me to Grey Worm and Jorah. "I do not like it, it's true. But… you've always been the fighter amongst us and Viserys. To keep you hear would be a waste of your talent, and will not help you become the great leader of armies I know you to be." She looks at our blonde friend and the Unsullied. "But you better look out for her. She is the head of my armies, and I'm not losing her before we cross the Narrow Sea. But most importantly, she is my family. My blood."

"Yes, your Grace." Jorah nods, the promise shinning in his eyes.

_"Grey Worm, please. Take care of her." _Dany urges.

The Unsullied leader nods to his Queen, face grim but a proud shine in his eyes as he looks at me. _"It would be this one's honor to fight by his Princess's side."_

"Very well, it is decided. Please, make your preparations." My sister dismisses us. I see the men talking outside the tent, but I am unable to eavesdrop as my sister pulls me into a hug, our silver locks entwining.

"Gods, you are the most stubborn person I've ever met." She says into my ear, and I laugh at her irritated tone.

"Well, you are as well. You just forgot, as I've spent half a year obeying."

Dany snorts. "You. Obeying?"

"Yes. Always."

We stand wrapped around each other in silence for a few moments, before she speaks again. "You truly are meant for this, you know. You've always been a fighter. My fighter. It is known."

I smile at her words, remembering Irri. "It is known." I kiss her cheek. "If I don't make it, take care of Daavi."

"Please, do not speak that way, I won't have it. I won't lose you."

"My sweet sister. There is but one thing that is certain in life; death. But for you, I will live."

"You're far too stubborn not to."

We break apart and I grab my weapons, sliding them onto my belt. "I shall see you before we free the city."

"You had better." I feel her watching me as I leave, and I smile when the image of her proud smile plays over and over in my head.

* * *

Night comes far quicker than I thought, and despite my brave words in the tent, there's an anxiety building in me when I think of what is to come tonight. Men shit themselves when they die, or piss. I can already feel blood splattering across my body, warm like I remember. I can see myself killing, which scares me the most, which is silly as I am actively choosing to kill to begin with. But we do not always like what we are good at, do we?

Daavi purrs, having grown too large for a cage. She's bigger than the three Dany has mothered, most likely because she is my only one and thus has no need to share.

My dragon is curled up at the foot of my bed like the dogs I used to see in the Free Cities. Despite her scales and horns I curl next to her, wearing my black fighting leathers and red breeches. My feet are bare, my black boots on the ground next to my weapons and belt.

_"Daavi, I will only be gone a few hours."_ I whisper, petting under her chin. For one that is meant to be a fearsome beast - as she sometimes is - she's more docile than I ever expected a dragon to be. She's certainly calmer and more friendly than Rhaegal, Viserion, and Drogon. Perhaps it's because of who she was born to?

Or maybe, I was right, back then when the human Daavi was dying and held the unhatched egg to her chest. My friend lives in my dragon, a gentle soul creating a gentle life. Or, as gentle a dragon can be.

Still, I absentmindedly rub under her chin, laughing softly when she chirps, pleased smoke coming out of her nostrils. _"I love you, Daavi. And I promise, I will not be leaving you tonight. You will not lose your mother, your friend."_

The dragon nods, intelligent as always. She accepts my words by turning her necks and opening her mouth, revealing sharp teeth. But her rough tongue only comes out and licks at my neck, a mark of protection, to keep others away from me as though they have the same sense of smell as her.

"Jaenarys, it is time." Jorah calls from outside my tent.

"I'll be out in a moment, Ser." I reply, and get up from the bed, heart dropping when I hear Daavi whimper. "I will return. I promise, darling." She nods and settles back onto my bed, curling into herself tighter.

Armed and wearing my boots, I walk out to greet Jorah while pulling on my black cloak. He's dressed in his armor, battle-ready as ever. He leads me in silence to the outskirts of our camp, where we will sneak into the city from. There, Missandei, Ser Barristan, Daario, Grey Worm, and my sister wait. I nod to Ser Barristan and wrap my arms around my best friend.

"Live." She urges.

"For you, Deia, I shall." Next, I walk to my sister, and hug her more tightly than I ever have before. "I will see you soon." I promise her. She smiles tearfully as we part. No further words are said. Instead, we creep into the night, down sandy hills and past large rocks until we reach the back gate. Daario has us crouch behind some stacked supplied, then says with a smug grin,

"When you hear a songbird's whistle, you come. I'm a great whistler, the greatest in the land."

I snort, as unladylike as ever. "Well, the greatest whistler in the land best get moving, or I'll be ancient by the time we take the city."

He bows his head, amused, then walks away, Jorah smiling at my sass.

"Halt! Who goes there!" The guard yells in Valyrian.

"Daario Naharis." The door of the gate opens, and I listen as the footsteps recceed. Moments later, a beautiful whistle rings through the otherwise silent night. The three of us stand and quietly rush through the opened door and into the dark city, looking around for any signs of danger. I smile internally when I realize I can't hear my own footsteps. Jorah has always urged me to be silent and swift when in battle. And I suppose sneaking away from Viserys most of my life has paid off.

We turn a corner sharply, coming face-to-face with two dead guards, their blood smeared on the walls they've been propped up against.

"That one was quick." Daario tells us, and we turn to see him sitting on a cart of logs. He tosses a rag aside, having just wiped his blade of blood.

"You didn't save any for me?" I whisper.

"There may be others, young Princess." Jorah tells me, amused.

"I doubt it." Daario argues. "The Yunkish prefer to let their slaves do their fighting for them."

As he stands and walks away some guards shout and hop over the brick fence, rushing towards us.

"You were saying?" I ask, gritting my teeth and dodging a sword as I pull out Blackfyre, and in a rush stab my first attacker through the chest. Sliding out my blade, the man crumples to the floor.

"Slight error in judgement, Your Grace." Daario tells me, swinging his arakh and slicing off the head of another guard.

"Yeah, well…" I grunt and duck, slicing another man in the gut. He falls to the ground as well, his blood spraying on my own torso. "My sister will hear about this. Assuming we make it."

Soon we're surrounded, all four of us fighting back-to-back. Any fear I had previously had is gone, only the rush of battle humming in my veins. Suddenly I understand how so many members of my family could go mad. It's quite thrilling, taking another person's life. But I also realize as the bodies fall that I don't like it. That settles something in me. This fear of losing control. This understanding that I'm not just killing, I'm trying to survive.

A sword latches onto my cloak and tugs me down, and I unclasp it and roll out of the way just as a spear is shoved into the ground, right where my head was. With a yell I cut upwards, slicing my attacker from bellybutton to chest, his blood dripping onto my chest and face.

A hand shoots out and I take it, coming face-to-face with Grey Worm. In an unspoken agreement we nod and turn, backs completely flush against each other. All you can hear are grunts, yelps, steel swinging in the air, and bodies dropping. I smell the piss and shit I had imagined, can feel the blood staining my skin and clothes. I know dirt covers me, some of it in my mouth and most of it in my hair.

I'm sure my violet eyes shine violently in the firelight. These men are discovering what Fireborn means, I suppose. Because it's more than physical fire. It's this drive, this unrelenting, beautiful, dangerous tenacity. It's my focus on survival, on completing my task. I have to help free those oppressed. I have to return to my sister.

So I keep swinging my sword and my arakh. I can feel stings in my arms and legs, small cuts that are not deep as they do not hurt in ways wounded men describe.

Finally, the last man falls. We pant, checking on each other. Jorah and Grey Worm look concerned when they see me, but Daario looks impressed.

"The stories really did do you no justice." He comments.

I roll my eyes. "Save it for my sister, Naharis."

He smirks, lips twitching. Jorah clears his throat and we nod, are faces now set in serious expressions.

We creep through the city, hidden in the shadows, following Daario as he leads us to the front gates. The whole way there, my breath evens out, a calmness seeping into my body. I no longer feel an urge to kill, to take. I did what I had to do, and I can't afford to go down a far more dangerous path.

* * *

As Daario had stated, sacking the city takes a few hours. Aside from a few duels in the streets, the Unsullied army, Jorah, Grey Worm, and Daario are the ones who claim the most lives, until the slaves forced to fight threw down their spears in surrender.

The three men walk a ways ahead of me, as I stopped to check on a few Unsullied with near-fatal wounds. The fabric folded in my hands feels far heavier than it should, though I suppose it is because of what it implies.

"Where is my sister? Where is Nary?" I hear Dany cry out, distressed. Gathering what little energy I have I rush to her tent and push myself past Jorah and Daario, looking at my tearful sister. She staggers a bit at my appearance, but I only smile.

Then I get down on my knee, and hold up the torn flag of Yunkai. "The city is yours, Daenerys." Her name comes out as quiet as a whisper, and to the surprise of all but me, she falls to her knees and pulls me into her body, our hearts thumping together.

"The city is ours, Jaenarys. And I am so proud of you."

* * *

_Across the Narrow Sea, surrounded by enemies (Robb's POV)..._

I had not given much thought to how I would die. I never have. I only ever thought of living in the North, of marrying a beautiful woman and raising a strong family. Of holding up the Stark name.

I should never have married Talisa. This is all I can think as I press my hands to the bloody stomach of my beautiful wife. A woman far too kind, too smart for a Northern fool like me. I can feel the arrows in my body, but I've become numb to the pain, far too focused on the blood of my unborn child.

Gods, I was going to be a father. But now I am going to die.

I hear my mother screaming, and look up at the strong Catelyn Stark, a woman who's lost far too much. I can see her moving her mouth, pleading as tears slide down her face, a knife pressed against old Walder Frey's wife's throat. I can't tell if the roaring is coming from the room or my own veins.

But what I do feel is a hand, large and cold clasping my shoulder. "Look at your mother, my King." Roose Bolton orders, as if I could look away from her. "This is a fate that would be far more kind for you."

In horror, I watch as one of Frey's bannermen comes forward and stabs my mother through the heart, impaling Lord Frey's wife as well, though I doubt the old man would care. I watch as she falls with a mournful cry, and realize that I've screamed as well.

That's it. She's gone. My mother is dead, like my father, like my brothers. My wife is dead, my child unborn. My people are dead, lead into a slaughter by a King unworthy of them.

I wait for a blade to pierce me, or perhaps another arrow. But nothing comes. All I hear is laughter from Walder Frey and his sons. All I can feel is wet blood.

"The Lannisters send their regards. As well as an invitation. I guess you're going to King's Landing after all." Lord Bolton tells me, his voice smug and proud.

With that, a bag is tugged over my head, my breath muffled and world dark. I can still hear my mother's scream ringing in my ears, just as I can hear the laughter from the halls of the Twins and feel my love slipping away from me, cold and unmoving.

I come to only one understanding as I'm tossed uncaringly into the back of a wagon.

_The North won every battle, but we've lost the war._


	8. Chapter 8

**Welcome back! **

**So first of all, I literally just realized I've been spelling my own dragon's name wrong. It's supposed to be DAVVI, not DAAVI *facepalms* see, this is why you have to triple-check your work. Oops. That'll be corrected starting now. I know it's not a big issue in the grand scheme of things, but still. **

**This is the last chapter of Flares of Freedom. The next installment will be called "Blazing Liberation" and will cover season 4. This chapter will only have Jae's POV, but don't worry, Robb will be back soon!**

**Anyway, enjoy! I only own my lovely Jae and Davvi, and the Robb plot-thing I have going on. Italicized is Valyrian dialogue, bold is Dothraki.**

**Thanks to all my reviewers, you guys are fantastic! So much love your way! **

* * *

Missandei carefully rubs a salve over my cuts, careful around the bruises that have spotted all over my body. Aside from a cut lip and a bruised cheekbone, my face was unharmed in the battle. But my body has an odd collection of tiny scars. Oh well, I've never been the most traditional princess.

Davvi purrs next to us, having grown fond of my best friend. Missandei is fond of her as well - while she shies away from my sister's dragons still, she is always welcomed by my Davvi to pet and scratch under her chin.

I like how gentle and kind my dragon can be. It means she's underestimated, and can more easily scare our enemies or rude men with her loud screeches and bright flames. As someone constantly underestimated thanks to my small stature and gender, I know the benefit of surprise. I enjoy throwing others off their overconfident rhythm.

As Missandei tends to my wounds my sister sits on a cushioned chair, watching me carefully with her blue-green eyes. "You look much better, without all the dirt and blood all over you."

I grin, but wince when Missandei dabs at my cut. "Yeah, well, you try getting out of a battle unscathed."

In the most un-Queenly way, my sister snorts, eyes twinkling. "And that is why I stay away from battles."

"Also, you don't know how to use a sword. Maybe I should teach you to fight?" I offer, standing and pulling my loose red dress over my short slip and small clothes, tugging on my leather boots as well. My black belt and weapons are pulled around my waist, cinching it tight while the five thin straps on each shoulder hang loosely over my biceps. There's a slit in the long skirt of my dress, allowing me to move freely. Missandei clasps a black cloak around my neck.

"Perhaps." There's a few moments of silence, then she speaks again. "I've decided to give you another title."

"My Gods, please, don't." I plead. "The first part is already a mouthful."

"Well, regardless, it has been done. You're the Sword of Justice."

I blink at her. "That's a bit 'on the nose' though, isn't it?"

"It's a title, it's supposed to be."

I hear Missandei quietly giggle. "Yes, please, laugh." She doesn't even bother pretending to be contrite. Instead my friend laughs harder, open and free. My sister joins in, looking less like the Queen she's become, and more like who she used to be. "You do realize I also fight with an arakh, right? And I wasn't the only one who helped take the city."

"But you are the Princess. And you're the one who fought the hardest to go into the city. You told me, 'And if I were to perish in this fight, at least it was for a great cause - freedom.' You said you could not stand idle by. You did not take the city for me, you freed the people because it was the right thing to do. So accept your new title."

I grin at the fire in her words. "Well, now that I think about it, I quite like 'the Sword of Justice'."

She norts once more. "Yes, yes. Are you ready?"

I nod, whistling for Davvi who waddles next to me, chirping along. Before Missandei can walk behind us I take her hand, linking it with mine. Daenerys walks ahead, back straight and head held high.

Two Dothraki women - Karthi and Shyla - open three wooden cages, releasing my sister's dragons so they can join us. Jorah, Ser Barristan, and Daario bow when they see us, my sister eating it up but I roll my eyes. Apart from Ser Barristan, I just fought with these men. I bled with them. I killed with them. We are equals.

Grey Worm stands at attention in front of me, his helmet off. I hold out my arm and he clasps it with his own, the two of us nodding in mutual respect. Davvi makes a noise and nudges at the Unsullied leader's calf, and it might just be my imagination but I see his eyes shine a little brighter.

_"She likes you. She knows you protected me."_ I tell him.

Grey Worm bows his head slightly. _"It was this one who was protected by Jae."_

I smile at his words, then catch Missandei blushing from the corner of my eyes. Interesting. I suppose they would be cute together.

My matchmaking scheme is cut off by my sister, who clears her throat. "It is time to wait for the gates to open once more." She walks through our camp and towards the front gates of the city, flanked closely by the three tall males. Another benefit of joining Jorah and the other men in battle? They've finally come to realize that I can take care of myself.

Still, Grey Worm marches next to me, followed by our Unsullied army and the remaining Dothraki. Our dragons walk ahead of us, Viserion and Rhaegal flying just above Dany's head. But Davvi stays close to me and Missandei, our protection from below.

Finally we reach a large rock formation. While Daario kindly helps my sister up, I climb up on my own and help Missandei after me, standing beside my sister while our best friend stands next to her. Jorah stands in front of me, Davvi behind him while Dany's three children stand on the rock just below her, hidden behind the Unsullied standing guard in front of us.

I lose track of how long we wait. The wind blows my skirt around me but I stand unmoving. But I can tell by the tensing of my sister's shoulders that she's growing more impatient and concerned, so I reach over for her hand and take it in mine, squeezing the limb reassuringly.

"They will come, Your Grace. When they are ready." Ser Barristan tells her.

"Perhaps they didn't want to be conquered."

I look over at her, lips pursed. "No one wants to be conquered. They want to be free."

"Your sister is right, Khaleesi. You liberated them."

"No." My sister murmurs. "Jaenarys did." Before I can argue, she sighs. "People learn to love their chains."

Then the gates open, and the enslaved walk through, dressed in dirtied clothes. It's a whole sea of people, gathering before us and staring at my sister and I in awe. But as they get close, our Unsullied guards hold out their spears, defending us.

_"Stand down."_ I command. The Unsullied listen, but their shields are up in defense.

Missandei walks to stand in front of Dany and I, hands clasped behind her back. _"This is Daenerys and Jaenarys Targaryen, the Stormborn and Fireborn, the Unburnt and the Sword of Justice, the Queen and Princess of the Seven Kingdoms of Westeros, the Mother of Dragons and the Dragonmother. It is to them you owe your freedom."_

"No." My sister stops her, and I look at her in interest._ "You do not owe us your freedom." _She tells the enslaved. _"We cannot give it to you. Your freedom is not ours to give. It belongs to you, and you alone. If you want it back, you must take it for yourselves. Each and everyone of you."_

There is silence, and then a man holding a child cries out, "Mhysa! _Mīsio_!" I know the last one. It's Valyrian, for Protector.

Soon, the rest of the now freed slaves shout our new names. Our newest titles. "Mhysa! _Mīsio_!" the shout, over and over again, their cries loud in the space between us and the once slave city.

"What does 'Mhysa' mean?" My sister asks Missandei.

Our friend leans towards her. "It is old Ghiscari, Khaleesi. It means 'mother'."

The people come closer, and the Unsullied hold out their spears again. "It's alright." Dany whispers in the common tongue. "These people won't hurt us." As my sister takes Jorah's hand to walk down, I look at Davvi, who chirps and looks up at me.

_"Fly, my love."_ I tell her, just as Dany has asked the same of her children. Davvi gives me a toothy smile and then shoots up into the sky, higher and faster than her cousins. She's graceful in the air, her long wings flapping easily.

My sister turns to look back at me, and holds out her hand. I nod and take it, using my free hand to remove my weapons and hand them to Jorah, who takes them with only a questioning looking on his face.

Together, Dany and I walk past our Unsullied, towards the continuous chanting._ "Let us pass."_ She orders, and they do as is commanded.

"Mhysa! _Mīsio!_" I hear as we walk through the crowd of the freed, and a little girl with fighter eyes stares up at me in wonder. I can't help but tear up and run a hand over her head gently before my sister takes me further in. Soon the crowd is surrounding us, blocking our view. But not until they lift us up in the air, first on our backs and then allowing us to sit on shoulder as they spin us around, shouting out our new names. Our dragons fly above us, screeching and rolling in the air, free.


End file.
